The Decision
by Pepsi
Summary: Ch 8 now uploaded! The Ministry's searching desperatly for the missing Harry Potter, unaware that he's been kidnapped. Draco's getting nervous and in the meantime Harry's escape-attempt leaves him wet and miserable. And hungry...
1. Nostalgia

Chapter. 1  
  
  
  
Draco Malfoy had always been a hopeless narcissist. He could stand in front of the mirror for hours at the time admiring his own reflection.  
  
He loved the way his hair fell down over his face and almost covered his left eye. He loved the softness of his fair, pale skin, and the silver-like greyness of his almond eyes. He loved the way his hair turned white, like new-fallen snow, during summer. He simply loved being him!  
  
He loved his name as well.  
  
'Draco'...  
  
There was something special about the name 'Draco'. In latin it meant 'dragon', but it could also mean 'serpent', and he found that this quite amused him.  
  
When he had been younger, he had used to dance among the flowers in the garden, singing his name as he swirled along with the gentle summmer-breeze.  
  
It seemed like an eternity since the last time he had done that...  
  
But he was older now, wiser in a way, and he could, perhaps never, do anything like that again.  
  
He sighed and let his head rest in his palms,keeping his gaze focused on his own reflection. The Draco in the mirror looked tired. He stroke a few strands of silvery hair away from his eyes with a slender finger.  
  
He had come to hate the summerholidays. It was great to come home and see his parents, just relax and be himself again, it wasn't that... But lately, everything had changed.  
  
His father would be gone for weeks at the time. And whenever he came home he almost always kept to himself, locked up in his secret chamber behind a bookshelf in the library, which he thought no body knew about.  
  
Draco wondered when it would be his turn. He knew that eventually he, too, would become a Death Eater. He just didn't know when yet.  
  
One day, his father would come and talk to him, prepare him for whatever lay ahead.  
  
He got slowly to his feet, and walked over to the vast windows, which covered almost an entire wall and also featured the door leading out to his private balcony.  
  
He opened one of the windows and climbed out. He had always done it this way, and troughout the years it became a habit.  
  
He liked his balcony. It was large and crescent shaped, with a beautifully carved railing. It gave him a great view, and he could see all the way to the ocean from there.  
  
The sun was about to set, slowly sinking in the horizon.  
  
A strange feeling of emptyness filled him as he stood there, admiring the beauty of it... Again he wondered if his father would care more about him if he became a Death Eater. Or care less if he refused.  
  
His father always had great expectations to him. Always telling him that only the best was good enough. Always go for the gold, reach for the top, die rather than give up and cheat rather than loose... He had heard it a thousand times before. And yet, even though he had been raised to believe in it, he wished that his almost-bests or nice-tries would've been apreciated as well.  
  
He did the best he could, almost at least, how could anyone expect him to do more?  
  
He turned his back to the beautiful sunset, and climbed back inside his room through the window. He had always been quite fond of his room. It was his sanctuary. And it was large too, concidering it belonged to a child. Or rather, once a child...  
  
Was he a child anymore? And if he wasn't, what was he then? He sighed in frustration and lay down on the large four-poster draped in black velvet. He had used to think it was quite depressing having to sleep in a bed draped in black, but it had been like that for as long as he could remember, and he didn't dare to ask for something else. He didn't want it either.  
  
He closed his eyes. Everything was so confusing! Why wouldn't his father be there for him anymore? Why wouldn't he come home? And why wouldn't mother do something? She usually never spoke against her husband. Usually she merely kept quiet and accepted almost anything, as long as it didn't hurt the Malfoy-reputation.  
  
She always put a huge effort in the whole reputaion-thing. She had always been that way.  
  
Many people thought of her as snobbish and arrogant, but they didn't know her. Not the way Draco did, anyway. He had always loved his mother.  
  
He remembered when he was younger, when she used to hold him tight and whisper fairy tales into his ears, always telling him what a beautiful child he was.  
  
He remembered that she used to smell of lavender, and that he used to fall asleep in her arms while he was listening to her heart beats.  
  
It was a long time since he had done that. How he missed her now. How he longed for her embrace... He needed her so much more than before!  
  
His father as well...  
  
It wasn't like he couldn't manage without his parents, far from it! It was just that he had always been the center of attention during his years as a child, and even though he had lived by strict rules, his parents had always loved him.  
  
They still did, he knew that... But they hardly ever showed it anymore. Not like they used to.  
  
Draco sighed slowly and shut his eyes tight. He just wanted to be loved. Was that so much to ask?  
  
These were his last thoughts before he fell asleep...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco Malfoy awoke with a start! He lay flat on his back with his eyes wide open. Still shaking madly from a strange, vivid nightmare...  
  
He knew how to impress his father now. Knew what he had to do to gain his precious attention.  
  
He had seen it in his dream. A voice had whispered it into his ears.  
  
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and rolled over to his side. How long had he been asleep? Hours maybe. It was already night outside. The silvery moon-light was shining trough the windows, creating an almost spooky atmosphere in the room.  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to recall as much of the dream as possible.  
  
But to no avail, however. No matter how hard he concentrated, no matter how deep down he dug into his mind, searching frantically for a short glimpse of memory, he found nothing.  
  
The dream was slipping away from his mind, like sand trough his fingers, leaving nothing but the faintest trace of fear behind.  
  
Nothing but the voice.  
  
The voice would not disappear.  
  
The sound of this soft, whispering voice...  
  
Slithering trough his ears like a serpent, wrapping itself around his mind...  
  
Whispering those sweet words. Those words. The only way. A way to make his father proud, and cause havoc in the entire wizarding world, all at the same time!  
  
Kidnap Harry Potter...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco cupped his hands and filled them with water. He watched it for a moment, staring at his own features vaguely reflected on the blurry surface, before he splashed it in his face. The cool water felt good against his heated skin.  
  
The morning sun had began to rise above the horizon, filling the room with golden light. Draco couldn't help but admire the beauty of it. He rather enjoyed of the miracles of nature.  
  
As he stood there, memories from the previous night came to him.  
  
The dream.  
  
His desperate need to gain attention, and his rather desperate solution...  
  
Kidnapping... He whispered the word to himself, tasting it with his tongue. It was a bitter taste.  
  
It sounded strange, even to him. Could he really kidnap someone, just to make his father notice him again?  
  
Draco loved his father, and had always pushed himself as far as possible, only to impress him. But kidnapping seemed like going a little too far... Didn't it?  
  
He sighed, and directed his attention back to the mirror again. Stroke his hand gently trough his hair, admiring the way it shone in the golden light from the morning sun. Bleached troughout the summer it looked almost like snow, or maybe silver. I really am way too self-absorbed, he thought.  
  
Draco was the complete opposite of his rival, with his smooth, white-blond hair, his grey eyes and his pale skin.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, was darker than night itself it seemed. Large, emerald eyes, and black, untidy hair. And the scar, of course. A thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. The scar that made him so different from everyone else.  
  
Harry was powerful, Draco knew that. He was smart as well, and happened to have twice the amount of luck most people were blessed with. Indeed no easy victim.  
  
But Draco also knew that Harry was sent to live with his relatives during the summer holidays.  
  
They were muggles. As far as he knew, they were supposed to be horrible people, and according to rumours, Harry didn't like them very much at all.  
  
This little piece of information was a great advantage to Draco. The fact that he lived with muggles, meant that he, under no circumstances would be allowed to use magic of any kind. As it was against the law.  
  
It didn't occur to him that he, himself, was an underage wizard, and that he, too, would be expelled if he was caught using magic outside of school.  
  
He pulled on a white shirt and a pair of black jeans. He realised that he looked more like he was attending a funeral, than heading downstairs for breakfast.  
  
Breakfast was served at ten o'clock every morning in the Malfoy residence. This, too, had been that way for as long as Draco could remember.  
  
As usual, a puny little house elf peeked in trough the double doors to his room and announced in a sqeaky voice that breakfast was ready, and that his mother was waiting for him. Draco nodded absentmindedly and looked at himself one last time in the mirror, before he strode past the elf and headed downstairs.  
  
The Malfoy mansion was beautiful, if nothing else. In addition to the five main floors, there was also an attic, a wine cellar, and two, maybe three, old basements. One of them had once served as a torture chamber many decades ago. But none of them were in use anymore, except for storing away old, useless furniture or similar things. And there were always plenty of those. The Malfoy household had many 'things', and quite a few of them were rather useless.  
  
The walls, as well as the floor, was made mostly of grey slate, and it could get quite cold during winter. Of course, most of the floors were covered with thick, soft carpets, and the walls were lined with beautifully carved torches, in addition to the great chandeliers in each of the larger rooms. The furniture were old fashioned, and mostly made of dark mahogny.  
  
Every single detail would give any random visitor a slight impression of the wealth of the family who lived there. This was, of course, done on purpose.  
  
They ate breakfast in the dining room as always. This was probably the largest room in the mansion, and the vast chandelier was truly breathtaking.  
  
Back when he was younger, he had always wondered what would happen if he ever flew up there on his broomstick and picked out one of the diamonds. Would it shine just as wonderful as it had always done, even if it was missing a diamond? Somehow, he didn't think so, and he had never dared to try. His broomstick wouldn't take him high enough either, for that matter, as it was in fact just a toy broom.  
  
His mother was sitting at the end of the long table. This, too, made of mahogny, and covered with a white tablecloth.  
  
"Good morning, Draco," she greeted him as soon as he entered.  
  
"Good morning, mother," he replied, keeping a polite tone. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he sat down.  
  
"Have you slept well?" she asked without looking at him.  
  
"Yes." He decided not to mention the dream to her. "And how was your night, mother?"  
  
"Just fine. I do miss your father of course, but..."  
  
"When is he coming back?" Draco broke her off.  
  
Narcissa merely shrugged. This was quite unusual, as she hardly ever shrugged. But, of course, she missed Lucius just as much as her son.  
  
Draco decided to change the subject. Or perhaps simply just end the conversation would be a better option. He helped himself to some bread and butter, and a few slices of bacon.  
  
"So, what are you planning to do today, mother?"  
  
"I have been invited to a dinner party this evening. I might still go, even if your father doesn't show up. Would it be OK with you if you have to be alone for a while this evening, darling?"  
  
Draco nodded slowly. She was almost never home anymore either. He wanted her to stay home with him for once. But, of course, he didn't say this out loud.  
  
What would she think of him if he did?  
  
He wasn't a helpless little child anymore! He could take care of himself now.  
  
And yet, he felt that familiar little sting in his heart when he thought about spending yet another evening alone.  
  
As he sat there, eating his breakfast in silence, he realized that he couldn't go one like this.  
  
He came home only three times during the year. Was it really that much to expect a little enthusiasm or attention from his parents during these short, precious occasions?  
  
Didn't they miss him as much as he missed them? Did they never look forward to see him again, the way he looked forward to see them?  
  
He wasn't used to being ignored like this. He wouldn't be ignored like this!  
  
At that moment, Draco Malfoy made a decision...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Authors note: Well, what do you think? Think I should continue? How do you like my  
  
new, rewritten version? It's kinda long, I know, but I hope you read it through anyway.  
  
Please tell me if it's too boring! And please keep in mind that English is not my native language,  
  
and that I have never written a Harry Potter fic before, when you review.  
  
Please review, because it would mean very much to me! 


	2. Beautiful

Authors note: I'm releasing this chapter before I've read any comments, because I  
  
just finished it, and you never know when my computers gonna screw up... ~_~  
  
Anyways, I hope you all like it!  
  
Please review, because it means a lot to me!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter. 2  
  
Draco was standing by the window, partly hidden behind the long curtains, watching his mother as she stepped into the dark wagon which would bring her to the dinner party.  
  
It was a beautiful wagon. Carved with intricate patterns, drawn by snowy white horses.  
  
He closed his eyes, and turned away.  
  
He was alone now.  
  
He began to walk slowly away from the window. Aimlessly. Heading for nothing in particular. His mind drifting trough a mist of nothingness, with no intention to focus.  
  
Which was exactly how he wanted it. He didn't want to think.  
  
Somehow, the house seemed so much bigger, when only he was left.  
  
When he had been younger, he had used to believe that the house really did grow bigger everytime he was alone. Thought that it, perhaps, was magic. Alive, in a way. And that it had some kind of grudge against him.  
  
He knew better now.  
  
And yet, there was that feeling of emptyness again...  
  
It was a feeling that would not disappear. Growing steadily larger until it threathened to devour him from inside. Make him become nothing more than a hollow shell of the Draco he had once been.  
  
He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly from side to side, attempting to rid himself of the feeling.  
  
He had other, more important concerns on his mind, and couldn't allow himself to be bothered by such childish imaginations.  
  
He reached down his pockets and drew out a small, blue bottle. He held it carefully between two fingers, contemplating it, as if he had never seen such a thing before.  
  
It was made out of thin, blue glass. So delicate and so easily broken... He held it up against the light, admiring the way it was shining, like thousands upon thousands of tiny, blue stars.  
  
But he knew what was inside. He knew what secret the little bottle was hiding.  
  
A clear, slightly bluish liquid which would make whoever drank it sleep, for almost twenty-four hours.  
  
A sleeping potion.  
  
"The Sleeping Beauty"  
  
Draco laughed softly to himself.  
  
My sleeping beauty...  
  
He had yet to discover a way to make his victim drink the potion, but this didn't bother him. He would think of something. If there was a way, he would find it!  
  
It had eventually occured to him that he, neither, was allowed to use magic outside of school without being expelled. It had to be done without magic.  
  
At first, this had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to him. But then it hit him. The answer was, of course, a potion! Potions weren't illegal magic. He could make as many potions as he wanted to, and no one would ever know.  
  
How very fortunate indeed.  
  
He put it back down in his pockets, and started to walk slowly towards the front door of the mansion.  
  
It had to be done tonight...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco had always hated muggles. He had been raised to despise and detest them, and so he did.  
  
He hated their boring life style with its lack of miracles.  
  
He hated the way the laws of nature tied them forcefully to the ground. Laws, so easily broken by magic... And yet, so impossible without!  
  
Now, however, he was sitting on a plain, black iron bench among them, far away from the magical world, dressed as a muggle, and forced to act like one.  
  
He wanted to scream...  
  
This was a nightmare! Why on earth had they placed Potter with a muggle family, anyway?! He was a famous wizard for crying out loud! He ought to live with his own kind, not here!  
  
But here he was, and here Draco was. No matter how miserable he felt.  
  
He had discovered a handy invention called a 'telephone book', where all the muggles were listed in alphabetical order by names along with their adress and phone number.  
  
In Draco's opinion this sounded like an utterly stupid, not to mention risky idea, but at least it made it easier for him to find the place Potter called home during summer, as he was already familiar with the name of the muggles he lived with.  
  
'Dursley'  
  
Bit stupid name really, Draco thought to himself as his eyes searched the street for a life sign.  
  
He was sitting at the corner of Magnolia crescent, with a clear view of Privet drive. According to the telephonebook, these 'Dursleys' lived in nr. 4 Privet drive, so that was where he had to be.  
  
His only hope was that Potter, for some reason or other, would come out. If he didn't, Draco would have to wait, either for some brilliant new idea to pop into his mind, or for another evening. Neither options applied much to him.  
  
It had to be done tonight!  
  
He had only been sitting there for about ten minutes, though it felt like much longer. He wasn't cold. It was summer, and the night was warm. A beautiful night it was. The sky was filled with stars, shining above him, like precious gems.  
  
And suddenly, as he sat there admiring them, a loud, angry voice cut trough the silence of the night. The sound was muffled, probably coming from inside one of the houses, but Draco was still able to make out every word.  
  
It was a man's voice. He sounded very angry, and was yelling at someone.  
  
"I don't care what happened! Don't you dare turn your back on me boy! Come back here! You're not leaving this house before you've undone this!"  
  
A door was slammed open, and the angry voice sounded ten times louder than before.  
  
"I swear, if you don't come back here I'll-"  
  
Suddenly, another voice sounded trough the open door. This belonged to a young person, a boy most likely.  
  
He sounded just as angry as the man, but he was not shouting.  
  
"You'll what? Kill me?"  
  
His voice was calm, filled with an ice cold rage which the boy was obviously fighting to surpress.  
  
"I'd like to see you try," he said. "Don't touch me!"  
  
And then the door slammed shut. Draco could hear the crunching of gravel and then the sound of feet walking quickly on asphalt, and he saw a dark shape coming towards him.  
  
A row of street lamps glowed bright orange, bathing Privet drive in golden light, and as the shape came closer Draco to see it more clearly.  
  
It felt like someone had suddenly emptied a bucket of ice cold water down his back... His heart skipped a beat and he had to gasp for air.  
  
Potter! It was Potter! The shape, the cold voice, it was Potter!  
  
He had to fight down the urge to run. His body felt suddenly numb, and it was hard to breathe.  
  
Potter had slowed down, and was obviously deep in thought. He hadn't seen Draco yet, and Draco decided that he did not wish to be seen. It would be so much easier if he caught Potter by surprise. So much easier.  
  
He got quickly to his feet and ducked down behind a low wall waiting for the boy to pass.  
  
He wasn't scared. Not nervous. He was quite beyond any of these feelings. His head felt strangely empty, as if all the blood had vanished. It felt like he was about to faint...  
  
He peeked carefully at Potter as he walked by. Slowly, lost in his own thoughts, unaware of the world surrounding him. Convinced that he was safe, probably.  
  
Nothing could hurt him here, in the muggle world. Nothing.  
  
He was wearing something black which had probably been a hooded T-shirt once. It seemed that he had ripped off the sleeves, and most of the bottom line to make it fit. But it was still much too wide for him, and a little too short. It was, in fact, so wide that it fell down his right arm, exposing a slightly tanned shoulder.  
  
His jeans were baggy, and he had tied a string around his waist to keep them from falling. Still, they sat very low, and Draco got a glimpse of shiny grey fabric beneath.  
  
He was surprised to find how much his rival had changed since the last time they had seen each other.  
  
Harry looked taller, and had obviously grown a few inches over the summer. His body was slender and seemed somehow less skinny than before. His hair was longer than Draco remembered it, and fell down in his face in a strangely seducive way. Almost sexy, even.  
  
He was... beautiful.  
  
Draco waited until Harry had walked further down the street, before he decided to follow.  
  
He felt a slight shaking in his knees, but ignored it. He needed that feeling right now, simply to remind himself that he was still alive, even though he could no longer feel his body.  
  
He blinked a few times to clear his vision.  
  
Too late. There was no turning back now. He had come too far for that...  
  
He breathed deeply, before he slowly, carefully, followed after Harry.  
  
He placed one foot in front of the other. Slowly at first, then faster. It all felt so unreal, almost like in a dream. He walked automatically, as if he was unable to control his own movements.  
  
He could see Harry's bare neck, only inches in front of him. Only a few more steps now...  
  
Suddenly, Harry stopped. A pricking sensation in the back of his neck had brought him roughly out of his thoughts, and back into the reality that was his.  
  
A sense of danger...!  
  
Draco realised with a slight panick what was happening, and without thinking the matter trough, he acted!  
  
He reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm, twisting it so that he couldn't move without breaking it. Harry gasped and arched his body, desperate to ease the pain.  
  
He could feel Draco's warm, uneven breath against the smooth skin of his neck. His body, only inches from his own.  
  
Draco slipped a hand gently around Potters fine neck, and squeezed it lightly. He wasn't going to hurt the boy, just scare him. Show him that he could kill him if he wanted to.  
  
Harry was standing completely still. He realized, with the use of plain logic, that if he moved, the pain would increase, and he didn't want that. Clever boy.  
  
Slowly, Draco loosened the grip of his neck. On a sudden impulse, he reached out and carefully removed the glasses. He toyed with the idea of, somehow, destroying them, or throwing them away, but let it go.  
  
Instead, he folded them and put them in his pockets. They might prove useful to him someday.  
  
He could feel the cool smooth surface of the bottle with his finger tips.  
  
No turning back now. He had come too far for that. It was now or never.  
  
He pulled off the top with his teeth, careful not to get any liquid on his own tongue, and held it in front of Harry's mouth.  
  
He wasn't sure of whether Harry could see his hand, or the bottle he held without the aid of his glasses, but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.  
  
Somehow, he thought it would be better if Harry knew as little as possible. It would be easier that way. Easier for them both.  
  
If he saw the shiny blue bottle, or the pale hand holding it he didn't show it. He was standing completely still.  
  
Suddenly, with no warning, Draco twisted his arm a little more. Harry opened his mouth to scream, but before he could utter a sound, Draco emptied the contents of the bottle. At the same time, he let go of the arm.  
  
The sudden lack of support caused Harry to fall. He stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the rough surface, and lay, barely conscious on the ground.  
  
He blinked furiously, attempting to clear his head as well as his vision.  
  
He curled up with his hands pressed against his stomach, coughing, in a futile attempt to rid his body of the unknown liquid now soaring through his veins.  
  
He managed, despite the pain, to raise himself up into a sitting position. He didn't cry, nor did he call for help.  
  
Draco bent down before him, allowing himself to drown in oceans of emerald.  
  
He had heard somewhere, that when you kill a person, you would do wisely not to look into their eyes when they died. Because those eyes would haunt you forever...  
  
Harry wasn't going to die. Not yet, anyway. He was just going to sleep.  
  
What was the difference, anyway? Between sleep and death. Was there a difference?  
  
No. Not really.  
  
Except that when someone died, they never woke up again...  
  
However, curiousity got the better of Draco Malfoy. He had never seen anyone die before. Never seen anyone fall asleep either.  
  
But as he stared into those eyes, he knew that they would never give him peace...  
  
Suddenly, without knowing why, he bent forward and placed his lips gently on the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.  
  
"I'm sorry Harry..." he whispered.  
  
And those were the last words Harry Potter heard before he lost consciousness...  
  
  
  
  
  
Authors note: Well? What do you think? I apologise for all the spelling mistakes I've  
  
probably made *sweatdrops* but please remember that English is just a subject in  
  
school to me, and I've had to learn most of it by myself.  
  
I'd be delighted if you reviewed, but I wouldn't want you to unless you actually liked what I wrote, and would want me to continue. 


	3. Father

Chapter. 3  
  
Draco was pacing restlessly back and forth. He was breathing heavily, and his steps were unsteady.  
  
Any fool could see that something was bothering him...  
  
He took a deep breath, and sank down on his bed, with his head resting in the palms of his hands.  
  
The 'thing' that was bothering him, lay with its arms and legs tied up behind its back in a dark cupboard down in the basement, still fast asleep.  
  
What was he going to do?  
  
There was a living creature, a human being in his basement, and he, Draco Malfoy had the power to decide whether this young human would live or die!  
  
He had wanted to kill it. Not personally, of course. But to hand it over to the Death Eaters, to his father, would mean death...  
  
No, not death. Death would come as a last blessing to this human after the torture he would endure.  
  
Merely killing it wouldn't satisfy them. Not anymore.  
  
The 'thing' was older now, and... they wouldn't be satisfied that easily this time. They would want more.  
  
Who was he to doom another human being to a fate such as this?  
  
What right did he have to decide between life and death?  
  
He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly to rid himself of the chaos that raged inside his mind.  
  
The 'thing' wouldn't wake up until tomorrow night at least. He had plenty of time to decide on what to do with it. He deserved rest now.  
  
He undressed quickly and krept down into the warm bed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Draco woke up the next morning, there was someone in his room. He noticed it right away, and didn't open his eyes.  
  
He searched frantically trough his mind, trying to find a reason why anyone would be in his room this early in the morning. He found nothing.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked, still not opening his eyes or sitting up.  
  
"Ah, so you're finally awake, huh?" a voice said from somewhere by the mirror. Draco recognised it at once!  
  
"Father?" he sat up and rubbed the sleep off his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, and removed the warm sheets covering his body.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was indeed standing by the mirror with his arms crossed, contemplating his son as this one got out of bed and into a robe of fine, black silk with red Japanese letters embroided on the back.  
  
They looked remarkably alike, the two of them.  
  
Any random stranger could tell they were related.  
  
They had the same silver blond hair, the same pale skin, and the same stormy grey eyes. They could've been twins...  
  
Lucius had always been proud of his son, and he never bothered to pretend otherwise.  
  
He was quite a young man himself, and looked even younger than he really was.  
  
He hadn't been in the same year as James Potter, or his bride-to-be, back when he had attended Hogwarts. They were already in their third year when he had started, and he had never really offered much thought to any of them back then.  
  
Not until later...  
  
All of these memories came rushing back to him now, when he saw Draco. He reminded him so much of himself, when he had been that young. Many, many eternities ago...  
  
"So... you're back then?" Draco drew his fingers trough his hair, and glanced at his father. There was a suspicious undertone in his voice as he said it.  
  
Lucius bit his lip and looked away for a moment, he had noticed the undertone, and he knew why it was there. There was of course a reason why he had come home. He didn't want to say it aloud to Draco, but he could see that his son understood. There was no need for words...  
  
"I'll be leaving shortly, I'm afraid," he began quietly, without looking his son in the eyes. Afraid of what he might find in them.  
  
Draco nodded slowly. He had expected this, and it came as no surprise to him.  
  
"When?"  
  
"Tonight."  
  
"Why? Where are you going?"  
  
"I'm not allowed to tell you that, but I will be back soon. I promise!"  
  
Yeah, Draco thought to himself, just like you promised last time, and every time before that...  
  
But he didn't say any of this out loud. Instead he asked: "Will you be staying for dinner?"  
  
His father smiled, and nodded.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco walked towards the library. His steps were steady, and he wore an expression of determination on his face.  
  
He had made a decision.  
  
He had to do it! Now! Now, before he-  
  
Suddenly, a glimpse of insecurity was visible in his silvery eyes.  
  
The sound of his steps became suddenly less frequent, until, finally, they stopped.  
  
He bit his lip thoughtfully, and glanced nervously at the heavy oak doors that lead into the library.  
  
His father had spendt the better part of the day in his secret chamber, "preparing something important", and hadn't been present except at breakfast and lunch.  
  
Draco was hurt.  
  
Hurt, becuase his father wouldn't spend any time with the family he claimed to be so proud of.  
  
But also, he was relieved that he didn't have to look his father in the eyes...  
  
He was afraid that his own eyes would betray him, and reveal to him the secrets hidden deep in his heart.  
  
He had failed to concentrate about even the slightest thing. His mind kept wandering down to the dark cupboard in the basement. Down to his dark, dirty little secret.  
  
He had tried to convince himself all day that the best thing he could do was tell his father about it right away, and get it over with as soon as possible.  
  
But something inside him, seemed to think otherwise.  
  
He didn't want to tell anyone about it. Not yet. Not even his father.  
  
For the third time that day, Draco lowered his gaze, turned his back against the library, and walked slowly away...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dinner was a quiet affair, and ended all too quickly for Draco's liking.  
  
They talked about nothing in particular, while eating a rather fine meal.  
  
Draco told his father a little more about school, just a few minor details of no great importance he had forgotten to tell him about last time he had been home.  
  
Narcissa told him about the dinner party she had attended the night before, and a letter she had recieved a few days ago which, judging by the look on her face, was concerning something rather important.  
  
Lucius told them nothing.  
  
He was listening, politely interested in their stories, but his mind was somewhere else.  
  
Draco saw it, and laughed silently to himself. Oh, father, if only you knew...  
  
But his father didn't know, and he left later that evening without knowing...  
  
Draco hadn't told him, and now it was too late...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco checked his watch. 11.55...  
  
The moon was shining trough the row of windows lining the corridor, painting the floor in silver.  
  
His dark shadow was easily visible against the wall.  
  
He was tip toing down the hallway, careful not to make a sound.  
  
He was carrying a small, black bag, and a bottle of water. The bag contained food, and the water was mostly clean, except for a few drops of the "sleeping beauty" potion to keep the 'thing' from regaining its full strenght and consciousness.  
  
He figured the 'thing' would probably be hungry when it woke up.  
  
Draco prefered to refer to Potter as 'the thing'. For some reason, he figured it would be a lot easier as long as he didn't think of his victim as a person.  
  
A human being with friends, and people who cared about him...  
  
He opened the door to the basement, slowly. This door always creaked, no matter how slight the touch, and Draco hated it.  
  
Fortunately, it didn't creak very much tonight. Perhaps it sensed that something important was going on.  
  
He walked carefully down the stairs, and entered the first basement.  
  
It was a large, dusty room with loads of old rubbish which, for some reason, they hadn't thrown away.  
  
He wondered vaguely whether there might be something of interest in there. Among the piles of old books, paintings, each worth several hundred galleons, hidden beneath layers of thin fabric, and all the other things stowed away down here, covered beneath a thick blanket of dust.  
  
Didn't anyone ever clean this place? For some reason, he didn't think so.  
  
He found the door he was looking for in the very corner of the room. He had shoved an old desk in front of it, to prevent the 'thing' from getting out that way, should it manage to escape from the cupboard.  
  
He wasn't afraid that anyone would find it. No one ever came down here. And even during the precious few occasions when they did, they never went further than the first basement.  
  
He pushed the desk aside.  
  
His heart was pounding in his chest, threathening to explode, and the sound of blood rushing trough his ears was the only sound he could hear, as he slowly put his hand to the handle.  
  
He took a deep breath, and opened the door... 


	4. Awakening

Authors note: first of all, thank you oh so incredibly much for reviewing! I love ya all!!!  
  
Anyways, I realized I'd forgotten a couple of things.  
My disclaimers for example (on, like, every fic I've ever written!)  
So here they come, and you'd better read them carefully, cuz I won't write them again...  
  
  
"I, Pepsi, do NOT own Harry Potter (though I wish I did!) or any other names or  
characters related to the books or the film. They all belong to J.K. Rowling,  
and I have merely borrowed them for this fic. I make no money out of writing this."  
  
  
Well, that wasn't so hard... *shrugs*  
  
And also, I'm having a slight problem here with this fic, which I hope you would  
care to help me with *big pleading chibi eyes*...?  
  
Do you want this fic to be SLASH/shounen-ai (I won't write YAOI, even if you ask me to),   
or not?  
  
Please answer me!  
  
And I would also like to apologize for all my spelling mistakes, and all the other  
mistakes I've probably made. Like I've told ya before, and again and again, English is not my language, and  
I've learned most of it by myself.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter. 4  
  
  
The second basement was a bit smaller than the first and awfully uninteresting.  
  
For some strange reason it lay higher above ground level than the first one.  
Not by much, but higher enough for a small step to be needed at the entrance, and a row of long narrow  
windows had been fitted beneath the ceiling to provide the room with sunlight.  
  
  
Draco had never bothered to ask why it was constructed this way, and he didn't  
care. After all, the house had many secrets...  
He was still quite sure it was alive.  
  
  
The room was almost empty, except for a vast amount of dust, a few boxes of various  
sizes containing nothing in particular, at least nothing of any significant importance or interest,  
and a large, dusty old cupboard.  
  
  
Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm the furious pounding  
within his chest.  
  
Slowly, yet determined, he aproaced the cupboard.  
  
It was a beautiful cupboard. He ran his fingers gently over the dark smooth surface,   
tracing the lines of the intricate carvings.  
Why had this been stowed away, he wondered.   
It was such a beautiful furniture.  
  
  
His hands reached the cold handle, and once again his eyes closed for a moment.  
He opened it slowly.  
He didn't dare open it fully, only just enough for him to peek inside.  
  
It was too dark for him to see anything, and only the sound of soft, uneven breath reached his ears, barely distinguishable over the sound of his own heartbeats.  
  
It was impossible to tell whether the boy was still asleep.  
  
  
If I leave him here, he thought, he'll die.  
  
No, he couldn't allow that to happen. Not yet.  
He drew his breath one last time before, quickly, jerking the door open.  
He stared anxiously into the darkness, dreading what the shadows might reveal.  
  
  
Pale silvery moonlight shone in trough the windows.  
  
However, it was not enough for Draco to fully make out the vague shape which lay in a heap  
near the edge of the cupboard.  
  
  
Slowly, careful not to make a sound, he bent down and placed a candle on the floor.  
With a lazy wave of his wand he lit it.  
  
The light cast flickering shadows across the walls, creating a false impression of movement.  
Draco shuddered and directed his attention back to the boy. He was still sleeping.  
  
  
Harry bore a strong resemblance to your average mental image of an abused rape victim.  
He was laying, gagged and blindfolded, on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest,   
wrists and ankles bound tightly behind his back with thick ropes.   
  
His clothes were dirty, and a stream of dried blood ran from a nasty cut on his forehead   
near the temple.  
  
  
A shiver ran trough his body with each breath he took.  
  
A low-pitched whimper escaped his pale lips as he began to stir slightly.  
  
  
Draco sat completely still, watching in silence as if mesmerized by what he saw. He wasn't sure if he'd been able to move even if he'd wanted to.   
  
He had never seen anyone wake up either, come to think of it...  
  
  
Harry suddenly began to twist and turn more violently, his whimpering growing louder in spite of the gag.  
Tiny sweat drops appeared on his pale forehead, clearly visible in the flickering light.  
  
Draco drew a slender hand trough his hair and began to breathe very fast.  
Obviously, the boy was having a nightmare of some sorts. Probably just a bi-effect of the  
potion.  
  
  
Without thinking the matter trough, Draco climbed into the cupboard and carefully lifted the   
boy onto his lap. He held him tightly in his embrace, stroking his unruly   
midnight hair, whispering words of comfort.  
  
  
Later, he often wondered what had brought him to do it.  
He intended to kill this boy, and here he was, embracing him like a long lost lover.  
  
The irony of it all was perhaps the tight ropes, the blindfold and the gag. It was almost comical.  
  
Draco couldn't help a smirk from curving his lips. Surely they must be making quite a picture, laying like this.  
  
  
Even though he couldn't make out much in the semi-darkness, he could feel the body in his arms  
trembling, crying soundlessly.  
  
  
"Shhh..."  
He whispered, as he wiped the tears from other boy's face,  
"shhh.... it's okay, it's just a nightmare... it's okay..."  
  
  
He hesitated for a moment before he gently removed the blindfold and the gag.  
Harry coughed. It was more than 24 hours since he had last had anything to eat or drink and his throath was dry.  
  
  
Then his body stiffened suddenly.  
The crying stopped, and for a moment he ceased even to breathe.  
  
  
He opened his eyes.  
  
  
Draco drew his breath in sharply, taken completely off-guard. The blood in his head vanished in an instant, and he felt suddenly dizzy and nauseaus, like he was about to throw up.   
  
  
Harry made no attempt at moving. He merely lay there, staring blankly at something only he could see.   
  
Draco knew that he was weak now, and very vulnerable. He wouldn't be able to put up a fight in his current condition, that much was obvious. He   
would probably not even be able to think clearly.  
  
  
But those eyes.  
Those eyes.  
  
How beautiful they were.  
They could hide nothing from him.  
Those eyes revealed it all...  
  
  
It didn't for a second occur to him that Harry might see him as well, and perhaps recognise and remember him.  
All he knew right then was that he never wanted to free himself from those beautiful green eyes...  
  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
  
This sudden movement, small as though it was, was enough to break the trance.  
The boy in his arms was still staring at him with wide eyes, but they seemed slightly more focused and it would seem that Harry was about to regain his full consciousness.  
  
  
Suddenly, the truth of his actions hit him with full force!  
He dropped the boy out of surprise and scurried backwards in attempt of getting as far away  
from the shivering body as possible.  
  
Harry hit the floor with a soft 'thud' and rolled over to his back.  
His eyes were closed, which made it easier for Draco to look at him.  
  
  
I'm such an idiot!  
Draco yelled soundlessly to himself.  
What the bloody hell did I do this for?! What was I thinking?!  
Now what, huh? Now what will I do? I can hardly even look at him, how am I supposed to take care of him?  
  
  
Harry interupted his inner conversation by letting a low-pitched moan escape his  
lips.  
  
Water... of course... he needs water...  
Reluctantly, Draco reached out a hand to support Harry's neck as he, once again, pulled him  
onto his lap.  
  
  
He praised the holy spirits that those enchanting eyes were closed and were no longer looking at him.  
  
He forced Harry's lips apart with his finger tips and poured some water in between.  
Harry choked and tried to cough it up, to no avail, however, as Draco placed a hand in front   
of his mouth preventing him from opening it.  
  
Finally, after a moment of silence, Harry gave in and swallowed it.  
  
  
"Good boy..."  
Draco muttered under his breath as he let go of the dark haired boy and gently   
pushed him off his lap.  
  
  
"...Am I... dead?" Harry asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.  
  
Draco raised one eyebrow, surprised by the unexpected question, though he couldn't help   
but smile.  
  
  
However, he didn't answer.  
  
He merely sat there, watching Harry as he opened his eyes, slowly as though his eyelids were  
made of lead.  
He squinted slightly in attempt of making out the blurry flickering shadows surrounding him.  
Figured his eyes weren't very useful without his glasses.  
  
  
Once again, it was he who broke the silence.  
"...No... I am alive... I think..."  
  
He lay still, his fragile form shivering with each breath, eyes fixed on the shapeless darkness above   
him.  
  
  
"...Who are you? Why... why did you bring me here?"  
  
Even though he wasn't looking at him, Draco knew that the question was meant for him.  
  
But he remained silent.  
  
  
Don't say a word, he reminded himself, he mustn't know who you are!  
  
  
It felt so strange...  
This boy, laying there in front of him,  
weak and defenceless, completely at his mercy depended on him.  
Harry's life was depending on him!  
  
  
Harry had closed his eyes again. He was tired, and the potion made him feel even more so.  
However, that obviously didn't keep him from asking questions.  
  
"Are you... are you one of Voldemort's servants?"  
  
  
Draco flinched at the mention of the name. More out of old habit than because it   
actually frightened him.  
  
  
"...Am I... going to die?"  
  
He was panting now. The effort of these few words were enough to drain him of all the   
strenght he had left.  
  
  
Draco couldn't stop a wicked grin from spreading on his face. There was most definetly   
some kind of perverted pleasure in this.  
  
  
Suddenly, he leaned forward and placed his hand over Harry's eyes, moving himself so close   
to the raven haired boy that his lips were nearly touching his ear as he whispered into them;  
  
"Shh... Be quiet, or someone might find you, and trust me when I say: you don't want  
that to happen."  
  
He enjoyed the way Harry's body suddenly stiffened, the way he, for a moment, ceased to breathe.  
  
  
"I am going to leave you now," he continued in the same whisper, "and I will not be back for a while... Don't go anywhere, promise?  
And remember my words, Harry Potter, don't you dare make a sound while I'm gone!"  
  
  
He released his grip and krept out of the cupboard as quickly as he could without looking  
back.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Authors note: I know this chapter sucks... ~_~  
But sooner or later I had to write it, even though I've been avoiding it for God  
knows how long! I know it sounds... I dunno... weird! But keep in mind that I'm not English,  
so it's a bit difficult for me to express myself correctly.  
  
So, what do you think?  
Want me to continue?  
Want me to make it a SLASH, or not?  
  
If you think it's slashy now, with all the Harry-is-so-beautiful-stuff, that's just because   
I happen to be completely obsessed with Harry ^_^  
  
I know it's kinda boring right now, but don't worry, it will become better as the story  
evolves. If you want me to continue, that is...  
And if you want me to continue, then you must review! 


	5. Hedwig

Authors note: Oh my God... Wow, I never expected to get so many reviews. I am not worthy of such kind words... Thank you so much everyone, I love you all!  
  
I'm so sorry the last chapter was so crappy! I promise you I'll try and make this one better ^_^  
  
As you may have noticed this chapter looks very different from those I have released previously. I had no idea I could use this format *jumps up and down clapping her hands in exitement*   
Oh well, the burden of being blonde, I suppose *sighs*   
Anyways, d'you like it?  
Think I should keep writing them like this?  
  
Thank you, Emerald, for your suggestions, I'll keep them in mind ^_^  
  
I got a strange question from one of you, asking me what the connection between narcisissm and vanity was...  
Well, you all know what 'vanity' is, right? So I won't bother with that one. As for 'narcisissm', here's a line I copied from a dictionary:  
Narcisissm: self love; excessive interest or admiration for oneself.  
Was that of any help?  
  
And also, before I forget (which would be so me...!) it seems most of you want it to be slash.  
  
Anyways, I guess I should get one with the story, because I have a feeling it's going to be long...!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter. 5  
  
  
Draco moved stealthily trough the hallways, pausing every now and then to make sure no one was watching him. He tip-toed up the staircase and slipped trough the heavy double-doors into his room, all the time careful not to make a sound.  
He closed the doors behind him and rested his back against them for a moment, feeling exhausted.  
He didn't even bother to undress as he crawled into his bed and closed his eyes, praying that sleep would come easily tonight.  
  
  
Suddenly, he opened them again and glanced at the black bag he'd thrown at the floor next to his bed.  
The black bag with the food.  
  
Oh bloody...!  
  
He'd forgotten the food!   
How could he be so stupid? How could he forget?  
It was too late now, of course. He couldn't simply go back and apologise and say: "sorry, here's your food, eat it. My mistake!"  
  
He groaned and rolled over, too tired to bother. He could do it tomorrow...  
  
Yeah... I'll do it first thing in the morning... Promise!  
  
And just as these thoughts surfaced, he was overwhelmed with exhaustion and promptly fell asleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was so strange...   
These feelings...  
He hadn't expected them. Not at all...  
  
But when he saw the boy, laying there so helpless before him, with no ability to defend himself...  
It was such a strange feeling... To have someone depend on you, the way Harry depended on him.  
  
He couldn't allow himself to think this way! It would ruin everything!  
All his efforts would be in vain, he would never get his father back!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco opened one eye. Something had awoken him from his sleep, and whatever it was he was quite determined to curse it off to someplace far away.  
As he sat up, he noticed an owl silhoetted by the bright moonlight against his window.  
It was knocking on his window as though its life depended on it, and he assumed the knocking was what had awoken him.  
  
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went to let the owl inside, determined to curse its owner off to someplace far away instead.  
  
As he came closer he recognised it as Pansy's.   
  
Oh this had better be good...!  
he thought bitterly as he opened the hatches and placed the owl carefully on his desk where it could rest up a bit.  
  
He detached the parchment roll from the owl's outstretched leg, lit a candle and made it float effortlessly in the air above his pillow as he lay down on his front and began to read.  
  
  
"Hi, Draco! How are you? It's me, Pansy!  
And boy have I got news for you! You are not going to believe this...  
  
Harry Potter has disappeared!  
  
I wrote to you as soon as I heard of it. I have my sources, you know.  
I overheard a conversation between my father and a member of the ministry, and they said that Potter'd ran away from his muggle-relatives last night and never came back...  
  
Creepy, huh?  
Appearently they'd had a quarrel of some sorts. I don't know what it was about, all I know is that Potter did some pretty serious magic before he left!  
That's how the ministry found out about it so soon. However, according to the ministry member, they assumed he'd come back sometime during the night, so they didn't start searching for him until this morning. Now they're talking about rape and murder and God knows what not!  
  
What do you reckon has happened to him?  
I mean, it's not like I'd put it past Potter to simply vanish, but somehow I don't think that's the case. Would've been nice though, don't you think?  
  
Send me an owl back as soon as you can, will you?  
  
Love from   
Pansy"  
  
  
Draco stared blankly at the letter for a moment.  
So the ministry was involved then.  
  
Well, figure they would, he thought. After all, it is Harry Potter.  
Oh God I'm such an idiot!  
  
  
He hadn't excpected this, obvious as though it was. The truth was that he hadn't even thought of it!  
Of course the ministry would be involved. Someone was missing, and this particular 'someone' happened to be none other than Harry Potter.  
  
  
He decided he might as well answer the letter right away. He tucked it under his pillow and got up from his bed.  
  
He searched absentmindedly trough his desk for a quill and some parchment, all the while deep in thought.  
Apparently he would have to get this whole thing over with sooner than he'd expected...  
  
Finally he found what he was looking for and sat down to write a quick reply.   
  
  
  
"Hi, Pansy. I haven't heard from you in a while, I was starting to think you'd forgotten all about me.  
  
By the way, you should be more careful with your owl, because it woke me up in the middle of the night by trying to break my window!  
  
So Potter has disappeared, has he?  
Well, honestly I don't think he's in danger. I agree it would be nice if he got in some trouble for a change, but he'll probably show up in a couple of days.  
  
Harry Potter is like a cockroach: impossible to kill. One may only hope. We could always cross our fingers, I suppose.  
  
  
Love from  
Draco"  
  
  
  
He read it over a couple of times to make sure it sounded okay, before fastening it to the owl's leg. He carried it over to the window, which he hadn't bothered to close, and with a whisper of "fly safely" he let go of it. He stood there by the window for a moment, watching the owl as it soared up high into the star spangled sky and began its long journey, becoming a steadily smaller dot silhoetted against the silvery moon...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Excuse me...?"  
  
The puny little house elf bent nervously over her sleeping master, shaking with fear as she thought of the gruesomme punishment she most certainly would earn for doing this.  
  
"Excuse me... master? B-breakfast is served now and...your-your mother is wa-waiting for you."  
  
There! She'd said it! No need for her to stay in here any longer, she had said what she'd been ordered to say. Goodbye mr. Master!  
  
  
But it seemed Lady Luck was not on her side this morning.  
Just as she was about to cross the doorstep, a cold voice made her stop dead in her tracks...  
  
"What are you doing in my room? And why, praytell, are you waking me up from my precious sleep in the middle of the summer holiday?!"  
  
  
The poor little elf began to shake madly. But she forced herself to speak, in spite of the fear.  
"B-b-because y-you-your m-mother t-t-told me t-to t-t-t-tell you that b-breakfast is s-s-served..."  
She cringed at the thought of what the young master might make her do.  
  
"Oh really? Is that so? Well, don't let this happen again! Go downstairs and tell mother I'll be there in a second."  
  
She almost fainted! The relief she felt was enough to make any house elf faint!   
She ran for the stairs as quickly as she could manage on her short legs, resisting the urge to jump and shout with glee.  
  
  
But, of course, it was too good to be true.  
Just as she reached the end of the hall, the cold voice of young master Malfoy called after her:  
"And don't forget to fall down the stairs!"  
  
  
Draco Malfoy was in a particulary bad mood that morning.  
He had barely slept for a couple of hours, the ministry was after him, even though they weren't aware of it themselves yet, and he had The Boy Who Lived tied up in a cupboard in the basement!  
How could life possibly be more perfect than this?!  
  
Oh yes, by adding the fact that the boy in his basement hadn't eaten for about 30 hours or so and would probably die from lack of nourishment sooner or later.  
And how was he supposed to sneak down with the food without being noticed?  
  
  
He grunted something to the mirror and began to draw a comb trough his sleek, silvery hair.  
The mirror folded its arms and looked offended.  
"You don't have to be so rude you know," it said. "Nobody's forcing you!"  
  
Draco grunted something in reply and turned his back to his disgraced reflection.  
His mirror had always been a bit touchy. Fortunately it was usually never mad at him for very long.  
And he prefered it much rather than the one in the bathroom!  
Why they had ever bought that mirror was beyond him! Not to mention why they had never gotten rid of it.  
  
  
"Good morning, Draco. Have you slept well, dear?"  
Narcissa looked up from her copy of The Daily Prophet to give her son a quick kiss as he entered.  
  
Draco considered for a moment saying 'no', but thought better of it.  
"Yes mother. How about you? Did you sleep well?"  
"Yes."  
  
  
Draco poured some egg and bacon onto his plate and sat down, showing no outward sign of his inner emotions.  
  
He turned to say something to his mother, even though he wasn't quite sure what it might be, but shut his mouth abrubtly when he noticed the snowy white owl on her shoulder.  
  
  
Narcissa looked at it for a moment before slowly turning to her son.  
"Draco? Do you know this owl?"  
There was something wary and suspicious about her voice.  
  
Draco made a quick decision and decided he would be familiar with this owl, just for now.   
He knew he had seen it somewhere before, though he couldn't quite recall where, or to whom it belonged.  
  
"Yes. Yes, mother, I know it. It belongs to Pansy Parkinson. You remember her, don't you, mother?"  
"Why yes, of course I remember her. Don't be silly, darling. And I also remember that her owl does not look like this."  
She pointed a slender finger at the beautiful owl on her shoulder and shot her son a questioning look.  
  
  
"Oh... er... She got a new one,"  
Draco lied quickly as a rattlesnake.   
And before his mother could do anything to prevent it he reached out and carefully lifted the owl from her shoulder, placing it on his arm.  
"Thank you mother, I will go upstairs now. I think I better read this letter in privacy."  
  
His mother looked as though she wanted to say something, but Draco left before she could utter a word. Not without noticing the twinkle in her pale eyes though.  
  
  
"And who might you belong to, my pretty?" he muttered under his breath as he entered his bedroom, closing the doors behind him.  
  
The owl hooted softly and looked at him with its large amber eyes.  
He sat down on the bed and detached the parchment roll from the owl's leg.   
  
  
  
"Dear Harry...  
  
Hi, it's Ron. How are you? Or should I perhaps re-phrase that to: 'where are you?' What happened to you anyway?  
Dad came home last night and told us that you were missing! He said you'd ran away from the Dursleys.   
I figured Hedwig would find you. She always does.  
  
You made quite a mess before you left, huh? Nice goin' Harry! That pig got what he deserved!   
But seriously, where are you?   
It's not like I don't think you can take care of yourself, but   
I'm kind of worried about you, you know. And that's probably nothing compared to Sirius! Or Hermione! God forbid she ever got wind of this... She'd fry you alive for even thinking of running away, you know!  
  
Well, I have to go now. Send Hedwig back as soon as possible!  
Hope you're alright!  
  
Ron"  
  
  
If Pansy's letter had made his eyes widen, it was nothing compared to this...  
Certainly this 'Ron' could be none other than Ron Weasley. This owl belonged to Harry Potter!   
He turned to look at the snowy white owl, who had settled herself on his pillow.  
  
"Well whaddya know... Hedwig, I presume... You are one clever owl, aren't you..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Authors note: This chapter got kinda boring... Hope ya like it anyway, and please review ^_^  
  
I promise you more action later on, but as soon as I wrote that last sentence I just knew I had to end it there.   
I might as well tell you right away that just because Hedwig found her owner that does not mean Ron knows where he is.  
At the moment no one (well, except one) knows where Harry Potter is!  
  
Take care and REVIEW!!!!!!! 


	6. Words

Authors note: I know you're probably a little mad at me because I haven't updated for so long and because I almost deleted the fic altogether.   
Honestly, I didn't think anyone liked it at all, so I wanna give GyaradosND and LadyFoxFire a big THANK YOU for proving me wrong ^_^  
I won't be able to give regular updates though, I have way too much to do. But I'll continue, and hopefully I'll finish this story someday!  
  
Anyway, as I've told you before, Harry is my favorite character. I love him very much and when I read through last chapter I realized just how far beyond boring it was without him. Which is why I've tried to keep this chapter more centered about him.   
  
I've changed the previous chapters slightly. Nothing concerning the story itself though, so you don't have to read them all over unless you really want to. This chapter has been completely rewritten. I like this better than the previous version of the 6th chapter anyway. I think I'll keep it like this.  
I really hope you enjoyed it. So many people have wanted me to continue, and I don't want to let them down.   
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter. 6  
  
  
When Harry opened his eyes he wasn't so sure he had because it was pitch dark everywhere and he couldn't see a thing.   
Carefully, he tried to move his hands, but as he did a jolt of pain shot suddenly through his arm and he gasped of surprise. With a beginning sense panick he realized they were tied together behind his back.  
He breathed deeply to calm himself. Panicking would do him no good. At least he now knew he was not at the Dursley's anymore. They would have thrown him into the cupboard under the stairs and made sure it was properly locked before throwing the key into the river, but they would never have tied him up like this.   
  
He couldn't remember Draco, or in fact any event occuring after he'd left Privet Drive. He remembered leaving though, and the reason for his department was still fresh in his memory...  
  
Perhaps, he thought, him being here would turn out to be a good thing? After all, it wasn't as if he could have returned to his aunt and uncle anyway, at least not this summer. Perhaps next year.  
They usually stayed mad at him for a quite a while once they were at it. As it were now, he had at least a place to stay. He didn't have anywhere else to go, and his rash decision of running away had never really gotten any further than to step.1.   
  
He realized that his glasses were missing, and wondered whether he had lost them or if they had been taken by someone.  
  
It dawned to him that he wouldn't have turned to the Weasley's for help, nor to Sirius for that matter. He knew that they would do everything that was in their power to help and support him, but the truth was that those were also the reasons why he would not turn to them. They had enough problems on their own as it were. And now that he was no longer under protection in Privet Drive, he would pose a great threat to the ones he cared for. He did remember what Voldemort had told him. He couldn't be that selfish.  
  
He considered for a moment the possibility of calling for help, but quickly abandoned the thought. He didn't have the faintest clue of where he was, and calling for help might gain him unwanted attention.  
Instead he tried to figure out if there was some way for him to move without the aid of his arms and legs. He was laying on his back in a rather uncomfortable position. The surface underneath him felt smooth and cool against his skin and he judged it to be some sort of polished wood.  
He rolled over to his side. His arms hurt badly as he did but he grit his teeth.  
  
To his utter lack of surprise everything was just as dark when he laid like this.  
He wasn't afraid of the dark, but he couldn't stop worrying about where he was and who had brought him here. Could it be that he'd been kidnapped, either by one of the Death Eaters or by Lord Voldemort himself?  
  
His line of somber thoughts were interupted by a sudden cry coming from his stomach, and he began to notice for the first time how hungry he was. He had no idea how many hours might have passed since he had last eaten, but it felt like a decade. Perhaps whoever kept him here intended to starve him to death. Hungry as he was, the thought of starving frightened him more than anything else just then...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hedwig had seated herself neatly on his shoulder and didn't seem like she intended to move any time soon. Draco didn't mind as he stared absently out through the window while feeding her an owl treat every now and then.  
He wondered how she had found him. It said in the letter that Hedwig somehow always managed to find Harry, no matter where he might be, but it did little to help Draco's situation whatsoever. What if she'd been tracked? Draco had no idea what Ron's handwriting looked like, and there was no way he could be sure the letter was actually written by him.  
There was someone who knew though, Harry.   
  
He had to go down there anyway, and bringing the letter along with him wouldn't hurt anyone. He hadn't overlooked the fact that Weasley might have cooperated with the ministry, but knowing for certain who the author of the letter truly was would at least help him sleep better.  
He glanced at the owl. What was he going to do about her? Letting her out would be too risky. She seemed quite clever for a bird anyway. He had a cage where he usually kept his own eagle owl, Morgan Le Fay. It was empty right now so he could keep her there, at least for now. He'd have to decide later what to do with her.  
  
He slid down from the desk and found the cage on the floor right next to the bed. Hedwig stayed firmly on his shoulder, even as he lifted the heavy thing onto the bed-side table and opened the hatch.   
"Ok, Hedwig," he whispered, "here's your new home." It wasn't so much a home as it was a prison, he realized, but at least it was a big, clean prison with a nice view. Which was more than what her owner had been given.  
But Hedwig didn't seem to like the idea of getting into a cage that wasn't hers. She floated gracefully from his shoulder and perched herself at the top of his mirror, looking down at him with large, amber eyes.   
  
Draco let out a noisy breath and put his fists to his sides. He glared back at her for a moment while trying to think of what other options he had.  
"Hedwig," he called, "come here, girl, come here... be good now." But Hedwig wasn't in the mood for being good today. She merely hooted softly and started to polish her feathers. Draco fished an owl treat from his pocket and held it up so that she could see it, bringing Hedwigs feather polishing to a stop.  
  
What a silly animal, he thought as she landed softly on his arm. He rewarded her with the treat and then hurried to lock her into the cage. Unfortunatly he had underestimated the 'silly animal', and she had no sooner devoured her treat before she was off again and flew up to sit at one of the bed posts.  
Draco's shoulders sagged visibly...  
Then he suddenly straightened them again. What was wrong with him? He didn't have to bother with this!  
"House elf!" he hollered, not recalling what her name was. She appeared almost immediatly, standing in the doorway, struggling to conceal her panting.  
"I have a small assignment for you," he said. "See that owl in there? There's only one so you can't possible make any mistakes about that," he pointed at Hedwig with a thumb. The little elf nodded quietly. She saw the owl. It was a beautiful, snowy white female. "Now, I want you to catch her and put her in the cage. You see the cage, right there?" She nodded again. Yes, she understood.  
  
He made sure she did as she'd been told before he began to walk slowly down the hallway, heading for no particular destination. It was still quite early in the morning and plenty of time to kill before he would have to go down there again.   
What was he to do in the mean time? He still had some homwork left to do, he remembered, but didn't really feel like doing them just then. It wasn't fair that he should have to have such a boring holiday! He knew he was probably having a better time than Harry though, who was locked in a dark cupboard and couldn't see a thing. Shame about his tan, Draco thought to himself, it had been quite good.  
  
He decided to head for the garden. A little fresh air might do him good, and perhaps it would help him clear his mind. He felt he could need it.  
  
The gardens were quite as impressive as the mansion, and were in fact taken care of by his mother. According to Lucius her fascination for flowers and greens in general had suddenly awokened within her while she was carrying Draco. She didn't have a job, and as Draco grew older and became more and more capable of taking care of himself she had nothing of significant importance to occupy her time with, and so she spendt it in the gardens.   
Draco couldn't imagine his mother not caring about flowers, she was after all named after one. Just like Pansy, he thought, making a face as the image of her sprung to mind. He hadn't really considered that fact yet, though he had known the girl for years. She wasn't exactly ugly, and they had a relationship of sorts. Nothing commiting. It wasn't official either, not even among themselves. Their entire relationship was in fact non-comminting to such a degree that he could find himself a sweetheart any time and still not feel guilty about it. He wondered briefly whether his parents would expect him to marry her, but quickly discarded the idea. They loved him far too much to force him into anything.  
  
He smirked when he realized he'd been lost in thoughts again. He seemed to be doing that alot lately. Must have something to do with Potter, he thought.  
  
Suddenly, he heard familiar voices coming from an open window above him. He stopped and listened, recognising the voices as belonging to Lucius and Narcissa. They seemed to be arguing about something and their voices were very serious as they spoke.  
"-- nothing to do with it!" it was his father's voice. Probably coming from the fire place. There was no way he would've come home without notifying Draco.  
"Well, I don't suppose you think I'm familiar with the boys whereabouts?" said his mother. She sounded almost challenging.  
"Of course not, but the Ministry may not see it that way. I am not keen on getting in trouble with those meddling fools right now, Narcissa, especially since I have nothing to do with the boy's disappearance."  
Draco felt his heart sink. They were talking about the kidnapping of Harry Potter, no doubt. He edged closer to the wall and sharpened his ears. He had to catch every word of this.  
"How can they suspect us of being involved? I may not be particulary fond of the boy, but I am nonetheless a mother. My own son is only a few months older than he is, a mere child, and I would never hurt a child."  
"Like I said, the Ministry may not share your point of view, and in case it's me they're suspecting, not you. The boy does not concern me unless he becomes a nuisance, but the Ministry will no doubt investigate the possibility that the Death Eaters have kidnapped him. And that's where I come into the picture. Do you understand what this means?"  
Narcissa let out a noisy breath. "Of course I understand!" she snapped angrily. "But I can't possibly see why I should have to be careful! The boy is not here."  
"True. The boy is not there, but several other things are there," Lucius said, then he paused for a moment before continuing. "Things I'd rather no one discovered. Especially not the Ministry. Lord knows they'd be thrilled to catch me red-handed, but I will not give them that pleasure!"  
  
Draco didn't think of eavesdropping as a bad thing to do, not even when the ones he were listening to were his own parents.  
And besides, this matter happened to concern him a great deal.  
  
"Look..." Lucius began, "it doesn't really matter. We'll just have to be prepared, do you understand? Whether they show up or not, we have to keep one step ahead of them at all times. Perhaps we have nothing to be afraid of, but if we do then we have better be prepared for it!"  
"Very well," Narcissa said slowly, perhaps a trifle icily. "You do not have to worry, I shall do as instructed."  
"Right away would be wonderful, dear," Lucius said.  
There was a small pause. "Yes," she answered finally, "of course... Goodbye, Lucius."  
"Farewell, my dear."  
And then they spoke no more.   
Draco withdrew quickly from his spot underneath the window and ran down one of the narrow pathways. They were lain with golden brown stone and made a pleasing sound when his feet connected with them. Like now when he was running.  
  
He headed for the small pond. It was by no means an exciting pond, filled to the brim with frogs and pinkish lillies, where insects hummed about all day and the water turned green every spring and became un transparent. Oh no, this pond was quite a bit different. It was a small pool, made by hands and painted white. The water was charmed, so that no creature or unwanted plant could soil its cleanness and purity. There were, however, a few fishes there sometimes on rare occations.  
That was where he was headed. He would by no means claim that the pond was his 'sanctuary' or anything, but he enjoyed being there nevertheless.  
It was usually peaceful there, and quiet. A place where it was possible to sort out his thoughts without being disturbed.   
He felt he could need it...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As night slowly crept upon the landscape, and the darkening sky became dotted with stars, Draco once again found himself in the basement. He'd even remembered to bring the bag along with him.  
He didn't know what to expect this time.  
There was a possibility that Harry was asleep, a rather small one at that though, and there was no way he could count on it.  
  
He stared at the cupbord. His hand, which had been reaching out for the handle, hesitated for a second and fell finally to his side.   
Instead he rummaged through the bag, fished up a candle, lit it and placed it on the floor. It didn't give more light than last time, but rather it created a well of shadows dancing across the bare stone walls. He turned to the cupboard again.  
  
He had no intention of standing there all night like he had last time, so instead of wasting more of his energy worrying about what he might find, he opened the doors to the cupboard in one swift, graceful movement. And then he fell to the ground with a small cry of surprise!  
  
He fell hard on his back. The impact knocked all wind out of him, and he saw stars dancing before his eyes. Very slowly he opened one eye, testily. He was on his back on the floor. There was something laying on top of him, judging from the weight of it it felt very much like a body. He opened both eyes fully and found himself staring directly into the exquisite face of Harry Potter...  
His green eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he seemed to be holding his breath.  
Then Draco's eyes widened suddenly. He noticed vaguely that he, too, was holding his breath.   
  
His reaction was immediate. Harry hadn't opened his eyes yet, he hadn't seen him, there was still time if only he acted quickly enough!  
He rolled over, causing the raven haired boy to fall on his side facing away from Draco. Everything happened very fast. Draco hurried to put an arm around Harry's neck, clutching onto a fistful of the thick, ebony hair to prevent the boy from moving his head.   
His eyes darted desperatly around the room, searching for the blindfold he had removed last time. He breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted it sticking out from underneath the big cupboard. He snatched it with his free hand and tied it around Harry's head so that his eyes were completely covered.  
He let go, letting the raven haired boy to fall to the floor.   
  
Harry was breathing quickly. He pressed his knees tighter to his chest, and looked like he tried to become smaller. Even though he was not aware of it himself, he was looking almost directly at Draco. He could in any case not see anything, but seing as he was not gagged he was quite free to speak.  
  
"So... you're here then..." he whispered. It wasn't a question. "Are you a Death Eater?"  
Draco didn't answer. He didn't know what to say, or if speaking was indeed a good idea. But Harry obviously wasn't expecting him to answer.  
"You're going to hand me over to Voldemort, aren't you? Or are you just going to finish me off yourself? Either way makes no difference to me," he added, "it's your decision." He sounded like he was trying very hard not to panick.  
"I..." Draco began, but Harry wasn't quite finished yet. "You know, you could at least let me fight you first," he said, "just so that I could pretend I was given a worthy end. You'd kill me anyway, even if I won, so it's not too much to ask, is it?"  
  
"Potter, be quiet," Draco said quietly. He couldn't bear to listen to this anymore. He tried to keep his voice low-pitched, so as not to be recognised.   
He wanted to tell Harry that he probably wasn't going to die after all, because his captor was a coward, and that neither the Death Eaters nor Voldemort was involved in the kidnapping. That they were in fact not even aware of it. At least not yet, he thought somberly.  
He didn't say any of this, whatsoever. What he said was, "I brought you something to eat. It's not poisoned," he added as he noticed the look of suspicion on Harry's face.  
  
Harry coughed, and then turned his head away from Draco. "I'm not hungry," he said. Draco rolled his eyes and let out a noisy breath. "Oh yes you are, Potter. I know you are. You haven't eaten for more than 48 hours, and the potion I gave you does nothing to delude your sense of hunger. The food perfectly safe. Just eat it." Harry shook his head, "I said no! I'm not eating that. Do you really expect me to believe a word you're saying? Think again!"  
Draco pinched the bridge of his pointy nose and closed his eyes. Should've kept him drugged the whole time, he thought, wondering whether there was some way he could force the boy to drink some more potion. This could get ugly...  
  
"Listen, Potter, just... just eat, and I'll leave you alone. We'll both be happy. I won't have to see you and you won't have to see me until tomorrow, or possibly the day after that." He could barely believe he was keeping such a polite tone towards this boy. He was hardly this polite even towards his teachers.  
Harry seemed unimpressed though. Instead, he pouted his lips, sniffed and said, "I don't care, I can't see you now either."  
"Well, goodie for you then," Draco said impatiently. "Unfortunatly I don't have that advantage. Now, will you just eat?"   
"If you think I'm ugly you can close your eyes. I'm not eating."  
"Oh this is ridiculous! Either you eat or you'll die, that's all there's to it! If I'd intended to kill you I would've done it right away, instead of going through all the trouble of bringing you here!"  
This little speech seemed to still Harry, because he didn't say anything. After a little while however he said, "you said 'I', not 'we'..."  
  
If Draco had been his usual self just then, he would probably have lost his temper and become furious at that last comment. Instead he felt oddly calm. He got slowly to his feet, stepped over to where Harry was laying and then he lifted the boy up in his arms, carried him to the cupboard and put him gently down inside it. Harry seemed too surprised to speak.  
"Fine," Draco said, "I'll leave you here then. The food is in the bag, you can eat it later if you decide to change your mind about it. I don't have time to wait for that to happen right now. Goodbye." And with that he turned to leave.  
  
He didn't close the cupoboard this time. Harry could keep the candle as well, he decided.  
  
Just as he reached the door, Harry suddenly called out for him. "no, wait!"  
He glanced back over his shoulder, "what is it?"  
Harry hesitated for a second, but then he said, "umh... I need to use the bathroom." 


	7. Complicated

Author's note: Harry will try to run away in this chapter. Whether he'll succeed or not you'll have to read for yourself.

For those of you who still recall the events of my previous version of the 6th chapter please keep in mind that none of them ever occurred. _Complicated_ is the 6th chapter, and that's just it.

By the way, I had the strangest discussion with my English teacher and fellow students the other day. We had a small test about English words that sounds the same, but mean completely different things (_there_ and _their_, _to_, _two_ and _too_, etc.). There were 22 questions, and I realized she'd given me _two_ wrongs! The English we Norwegian teens learn in school is so simple you wouldn't believe it. I'm top of my class, I don't even have to do my homework to keep up, and you can see for yourselves what _my_ English is like…!

Anyway, she claimed that it was supposed to be "The shoe is much _to_ big" and "He was driving _to_fast", whereas I'm fairly sure it's "The shoe is much _too_ big" and "He was driving_ too_ fast". Please tell me I'm correct, because I simply refuse to believe it. It goes against everything I've ever read, written and learned about the English language in my entire life!

Chapter. 7

 Harry didn't weigh much. Had Draco been his mother, he would've been concerned. He wasn't, so he didn't, but it still bothered him ever so slightly.

What bothered him even more was how on earth he was going to let Harry use the bathroom. 

 He realized, of course, that someone who was both blind and incapable of moving his arms and legs at the same time could not very well go to the bathroom by himself. 

There was bound to be trouble. And if said trouble happened to be of the noisy sort, then his mother would wake up and then there would be more trouble...

 He had absolutely no intensions of following the boy inside, but he couldn't just untie him either. 

Harry would run away for sure.

 If someone had told him a few days ago that he would be carrying Harry Potter around like a baby, in the middle of the night, in his own home, he would've laughed. 

Then he would've probably worked out some evil plot to get whoever said it in trouble, big time. 

And yet, here he was.

 He had to carry the boy. He couldn't very well free his legs and let him walk for himself. 

What if he ran away? Or turned out to be really good at karate? 

He hadn't removed the blindfold either. He had come to think of Ron's letter, and wondered whether it would be a good idea to show it to Harry now, or wait until later.

 Harry lay fairly still in his arms and said nothing for a while. Then he whispered, "Where are we?"

Draco didn't reply.

Harry had so far shown no sign that he recognized his voice, and Draco wasn't about to make it easier for him. 

 They walked up a short hallway, and then proceeded to take the fastest route to the bathroom. There were a total of four bathrooms, and Draco headed instinctively for the smallest, hidden away in the far end of the mansion. As far away from his sleeping mother as possible…

 Harry was concentrating very hard on the hands that were carrying him. He tried to decide whether they were the hands of an old or young person. The voice sounded fairly young, but voices could be deceiving, and it had so far only spoken to him in a very low-pitched tone so it was difficult to be absolutely certain.

 Just like Draco, he, too, wondered how the kidnapper planned to let him use the bathroom. 

Would he untie his hands? Harry hoped he would. It would increase his chances of escaping, and in any case he didn't much enjoy being bound. 

With both hands free he might be able to climb out a window, or quite simply knock out his captor. But most importantly he could remove the black piece of cloth that covered his eyes. 

 He wondered who the kidnapper might be. Some Death Eater or other sounded reasonable, he thought. 

But if so was, then why wasn't he dead yet? 

From what he'd seen of them so far they seemed rather... effective. 

Not to mention a trifle unfriendly, especially towards him.

 This person, whoever he was, had brought him food. He wasn't acting particularly friendly, but not too unfriendly either. It might be a nice person. Deep down inside, or something like that. 

 Draco carried him up one last flight of stairs and they were there. 

This was where the difficult part came...

 "Listen carefully to me," he begun in a quiet voice. "I'll untie one of your hands. You are not to untie the other, nor your legs, and don't make a sound while you're in there, understand?"

Harry nodded mutely in response.

 Draco helped the boy to stand straight on his own feet, before he fished his wand out of his pocket, pointed it to the blindfold and muttered a spell under his breath. The spell would prevent Harry, or indeed anyone else for that matter, from untying the thing with bare hands. 

A wand was required to get the job done. 

 Satisfied with his own genius, he opened the door and gave Harry a slight nudge in the right direction. Harry stumbled forward, but managed not to fall over. It was quite difficult to walk with his feet tied together like that, but he somehow managed to inch his way past the threshold. 

The first thing he did once he was fairly certain no one was watching was to try and remove the blindfold. It was stuck. He tried to undo the knot, and then, when this proved useless, he attempted to pull it off with his fingers. But no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't come off.

 Realizing he had no time to waste he bent down and quickly untied his ankles. This second task proved out to be far simpler than the first, and he had the ropes off within a matter of seconds.

 Born with a strong a sense of right and wrong, he felt slightly guilty for disobeying the kidnapper. 

But then again, the small part of him which had almost gotten him sorted into Slytherin, seemed to be of a different mind. 

After all, the kidnapper had wanted him to eat, which meant that he wanted Harry to stay remotely healthy, at least for a little while longer. With his legs tied together he'd just bump into things and end up injuring himself. 

 He attempted to free his other hand as well, but this turned out to be quite impossible.

It seemed his hands were not tied together as he had believed at first, but rather both were attached separately to the rope that went around his waist. 

 He had to bend and twist his arm in a most uncomfortable way just to reach the knots, impossibly so should he have any hope of undoing them. 

 It bothered him a great deal that he couldn't take in his surroundings, but he would just have to deal without. There was, in any case, nothing he could do about it.

Reluctant to waste more time and energy on worrying, he instantly got to work examining the walls and various object within the room. 

 It wasn't a very large room, but bigger than the dark cupboard. The walls were completely smooth, and he found a toilet and a sink. Aside from that there was a small, circular mirror hanging above the sink and nothing more. 

Nothing helpful…

 He was close to tears with disappointment, when his fingers suddenly bumped into something along the wall. After a closer examination he concluded gleefully that it was a window.

With quick fingers he located the hatches and unfastened them. He held his breath as it swung outwards.

 "Please don't creak, please don't creak," he prayed, while keeping his fingers on both hands firmly crossed behind his back.

 It didn't creak.

 The window was placed fairly high up on the wall, and although he had no trouble reaching it he would probably require some sort of aid in order to climb out of it.

He stepped onto the toilet, careful not to make too much noise. He didn't want the stranger outside to hear him. Not until he was safe and out of reach. 

Harry didn't weigh much. However, hoisting him up onto the window still with one hand was impossible. Even for one as light as he. Perhaps he lacked the muscles.

Fortunately he was quite flexible and did, in fact, manage to get up by placing first one leg on the still and then use his free arm to pull himself the rest of the way up.

The feeling of warm, summer air delighted him and for a short second he merely sat there enjoying it. 

 It was then it hit him how utterly helpless he truly was without his eyes. He had no means of knowing where he was. The air was almost still, and only a gentle breeze played idly with his hair.

He wondered how far he would fall if he simply slipped off the edge…

 Draco was growing impatient. He knew girls had a reputation for spending unnecessary long time in the bathroom, but couldn't recall ever having heard the same about boys.

It seemed Harry Potter was the exception to set the rule, however. 

What was he doing in there?

 Probably trying to free himself, Draco wasn't stupid. He'd certainly never expected Harry to obey him just like that, he knew him better than that. 

Even so, there was fairly little he could accomplish, blind as he was. No one, not even Harry Potter, could possible be foolish enough to make an escape attempt with a blindfold that wouldn't come off.

 Could he…?

 Overwhelmed with a sudden rush of fear and suspicion, he opened the door. 

 Just in time to see Harry slip over the edge and disappear…

 "HARRY!" Ron Weasley jolted upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat. His heart was beating rapidly and he was panting.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. It was just a bad dream, he assured himself. 

 He couldn't believe he had actually managed to fall asleep. He'd been sick with worry since that morning dad came home and told them Harry Potter was missing. That was two days ago. Mr. Weasley had been one of the first to arrive at the Durselys. 

 Why he'd arrived at all was partly because Harry had done some pretty heavy magic, not only to his relatives but to the furniture as well, not to mention the food, and partly due to a severe lack of personnel in the ministry during the summer holidays. 

 If the situation hadn't been so serious, Ron would've laughed. He had no idea what the ordeal with the Durselys had been all about, but he reckoned they deserved what they got.

Dad had assured them that probably nothing was wrong. Probably, he said, Harry would be recovered the following day. Alive.

But the day came and went, and Harry had yet to show up. 

 Nor had Ron received any response from the letter he'd sent. He had written it the very same morning dad had come home with the bad news and sent it with Hedwig. Feeling certain she would manage to track him down, wherever he was.

 He was beginning to regret his decision of not telling his father about it. He'd thought that if Harry wanted to stay away for a while, or was with Sirius then he wasn't going to make any trouble. He realized now that it might not have been a very good decision.

 He hoped for the life of him that Harry was safe. Nothing else mattered, just as long as Harry was safe.

 But if he was worried, it was nothing compared to Ginny. She was devastated. She hadn't slept at all, that much he was certain of. He'd tried to comfort her, but he had the job cut out for him…

 He really meant what he'd written in the letter, about Harry being able to take care of himself. But what chance would he stand against ten Death Eaters? 

 If only there was something he could do to help. Anything. Anything to make sure Harry was alive and unhurt.

 No matter what, he'd be more than willing to do it, if it was to save Harry…

 Draco didn't even have a chance to cry out. He ran over to the window, climbing up to the still to look out. He spotted Harry almost instantly. He had landed on the roof of a smaller part of the mansion, about six feet beneath the window, and lay unmoving on his side.

_ Please don't let him be dead_, Draco pleaded silently. He was just about to call out, but just as he opened his mouth, Harry began to stir. He seemed almost confused at first, but quickly regained his wits and got to his feet. 

 Fortunately he seemed to have realized he was standing on a roof, and he was clever enough not to start running blindly. He must've noticed he was lying on tiles, thought Draco.

 He was currently unsure of what to do. He didn't feel much like jumping down after Harry, but what other options did he have? He had to take some decision, and he needed to take it fast. He couldn't risk getting caught by his mother or by that house elf, whatever her name was.

 With one last look on the tiny bathroom, and the flashing images of broken limbs and smashed watermelons dancing behind his eyes, he let go of the still.

  His flight seemed to take only a second before he landed hard on the roof. His knees gave way and he fell, rolling over once before scrambling gracefully to his feet. 

 Harry spun around and was looking straight at him, slowly backing away from where he judged his enemy to be standing. 

 "Don't move, you idiot!" hissed Draco, fully aware of the fact that nothing he said would make any difference. He didn't think Harry would stop moving just because he told him not to. He was right.

Harry was getting dangerously close to the edge, but remained oblivious, overwhelmed with a strong desire not to get captured again.

 Draco decided threatening was not the best way to go, and opted for the use of a completely different tactic. The one he was best at. Deception…

 "I wouldn't go any further if I were you," he said calmly. Harry stopped. But his stance was similar to that of a cat that is about to attack, or perhaps escape. Draco was mildly amazed that the boy didn't recognize his voice. Or if he did, he didn't show it.

 "I'm not mad at you for trying to escape," he said soothingly. That was of course not true. He was furious, even though he'd expected no less. "I would've been disappointed if you hadn't tried anything." That at least was not a lie…

 "We're on a roof, so you might want to reconsider any thoughts of running away, or moving at all. You're blind too, so it'll do you no good. You don't even know where you are," he added

 He paused to see if his words had any effect. It was hard to tell, but Harry didn't move. Draco took that as a good sign. 

 However, it turned out he had misjudged the situation. No sooner had he taken a step forwards before Harry immediately stepped backwards. Only, there was nothing to step on…

 He swayed dangerously back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds. 

 He never fell. 

 Draco immediately made a lunge at him and caught him just as he was about to tip backwards. He grabbed onto Harry's shirt and pulled with all his might. Harry didn't hesitate for a second, but instantly clung to Draco's arm for support and with a huge joint effort they ended up in a tangled heap, safely on the roof away from the edge trying to catch their breaths.

"Thank you," Harry said. "Welcome," said Draco.

 The sky was a clear, dark blue, and a silvery crescent shone down on them as they sat close together on the roof. The quiet of the night disturbed only by the sound of their breathing. Harry was shaking slightly from the shock, and Draco reluctantly admitted that he didn't feel too steady himself.

 He had begun to wonder how on earth they were supposed to get down. He expected Harry to be a trifle more trusting now, after he had saved him. Which meant that he might let him carry him down without protest, should it become necessary.

 It was a long way down, and jumping was not even an option to be taken into consideration. They couldn't climb back up the way they'd come either. Nor were there any vines on the walls on this part of the mansion, so they couldn't climb down.

 "What are you doing?" asked Harry suddenly, and there was wariness to his voice as he spoke.

 "I'm trying to figure out a way to get us down from here," Draco muttered, assuming Harry had meant his silence. He drew his fingers slowly through his sleek hair. 

  "How far up are we?" Harry tilted his head slightly to one side.

 "Quite far."

 "Do you know how to fly?" he asked after a short pause.

 Draco snorted, "of course I know how!" The question surprised him. He supposed the raven-haired boy was only acting cooperative for the sake of getting safely down.

"Acquire your broom then," Harry said, "we can fly."

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed it! So many people have told me they wanted me to continue, so I'm doing my best for them. I'll tell you soon about the reason why Harry has yet to show any sign of recognizing Draco, so don't bother to complain about that part.

And please tell me whether it's to or too! It's important to me!

And please review. That's important to me too (or _to_… Argh! I'm confused!)!


	8. Flight

Author's note:  Wow, thanks for all the support! I got so many e-mails and reviews about that grammar argument I had with my teacher. I'm so grateful to you all! And I'm delighted to inform you all that the correct answer on my stupid test is: "the shoe was much too big," "he was driving too fast," and "he was driving to California." I was right! Yay! My teacher admitted she was wrong (I tried very hard not to look smug just then, I really did), but not before looking it up in a dictionary. It's a bit worrying, I think, that the person who is in fact my English teacher, and even gets paid for it, doesn't know things like this. My education is going down, down I tell you.

  On the subject of wrongly informed teachers and weird discussions, we discussed homophobia in class the other day and it was hilarious. My teacher kept accusing today's youth of being too homophobic and afraid of the unknown. I had a hard time trying not to burst out in fits of laughter, as you probably can all imagine. Seriously, you should've heard him. I'm under the impression that he thinks he is in some way superior to us because he thinks he knows how our minds work. He actually thinks we are all homophobic, and therefore that he can say whatever he wants since he's not and believes we will be too grossed out by the old fashioned mental images of men with moustaches and leather pants to pay any real attention anyway. I think I'll write a little something for him on our next free assignment and see how he copes with that. Maybe that'll prove to him how "shallow-minded" today's youth really are, compared to the older generations. Don't get me wrong though, I respect this particular teacher very much, and I'm glad he thinks he's superior to us because of his open mindedness rather than superficial and trivial things like skin color or mere old age with no wisdom behind it. Nevertheless, I've decided to write my next free assignment as I would a perfectly common slash-fic. It would be nothing smutty, of course, as he tends to show my stories to the entire staff.

  About the story, I really want to finish it before the 5th book gets out in stores, but it's difficult due to lack of time and inspiration especially.

Chapter. 8

  Draco brought up his hand and caught the broom that came flying towards him. He kept his eyes focused on Harry the entire time, in case the boy decided to try something. But Harry was sitting unusually still, and only raised his head slightly as he heard the broom.

"You have a Nimbus 2001," he said, as if in wonder. Draco didn't reply. It had occurred to him that even if Harry knew who he was, he could've decided not to show it, believing it would make it easier for him if he put on an image of complete oblivion.

  Harry didn't budge even as Draco bent down behind him to tie his hands together. Draco fumbled a little. Harry had such thin wrists. He would wait with the legs until they got back on solid ground. He did not quite trust his balance and precision on broom enough to feel confident he would manage the trip while carrying another boy. 

  With a solid grip on Harry's raven hair he pulled him up from his knees and steered him over to where the broom was hovering in the air at waist height. Then he stopped. How on earth was he supposed to do this? He felt a sudden urge to punch Harry hard in the stomach. This was his entire fault! The boy was more trouble than he was worth. He decided to wait with that, too, until they had gotten safely down. 

  Harry would have to sit in front of him. Obviously he couldn't sit behind, or he'd most certainly fall off. And besides, Draco reasoned he'd have better control over him that way. Slipping one arm around Harry's waist he swung his leg easily over the handle and pulled the other boy after him. Catching on, Harry followed suit and was soon perched on the broom just in front of Draco. 

  Harry was gripped by a sudden panic at his own inability to hold onto something, leaving him with no other option than to rely on the arm to support him. "Hold on tight," muttered a voice, so close that the warm breath tickled his ear. Hold on to what, thought Harry glumly. But before he could sink any deeper into contemplation over this, they kicked off and soared skywards. 

  Harry couldn't keep himself from making a small delighted sound at the feeling of absolutely nothing under his feet but thin air. Though he had flown many times before, this was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He was at least fairly certain that he had never flown a broom in the middle of the night before, with his arms tied behind his back, blindfolded, and with someone else's arm around his waist to keep him from falling off. It was exciting in a dangerous sort of way, and he found he enjoyed it to no end. 

  At first Draco didn't want to stay airborne any longer than necessary. But after a while he, too, began to enjoy the feeling of it. The night air became chill as they began to gain altitude, and goose bumps rippled over Harry's naked arms. He shivered a little, but only just, fearing he might loose his balance by moving around too much. Instinctively Draco tightened his grip around him. 

  The view was truly magnificent from up here. He looked down at the garden, and spotted the little pond glinting like a gem in the far end. Everything was white surface and blue shadows in the moonlight, and the Malfoy manor looked like something from a fairy tale. 

  Suddenly, he was startled by a loud growl coming from the pit of his stomach. Draco hadn't realized until then just how hungry he was.  It must be getting early, he thought. In front of he him he could hear Harry chuckle lightly, and then the next thing he knew they were diving for the ground at alarming speed. Harry had taken the opportunity as soon as he realized Draco wasn't paying much attention to him, and leant as much of his upper body forward as he was able to. 

  Momentarily frozen, Draco could only stare at the fast approaching ground. The wind howled around his ears, ruffling his clothes and hair into disorder. He regained his senses just in time to jerk Harry up straight with one arm and pull off the dive. Strands of grass touched the tip of his shoes, but he barely noticed, because while the broom was no longer headed for the same direction it had lost none of its speed whatsoever and carried on zooming across the garden. 

  The urge to knock the wind out of Potter returned of a sudden with full force. When he finally did manage to pull back and stop the broom, he lost his grip on Harry who tipped sideways and fell head first into the little pond with a soft splash. Instead of screaming out loud in frustration, like his inner self was telling him to, he closed his eyes instead and took a deep breath. 

  Spotting Harry wasn't difficult. Even if it hadn't been for the moonlight, the noise was more than sufficient to go by. Not surprisingly the boy seemed to have recognized his new environment, and had then proceeded to panic. 

  And he had panicked. He hated water. He wasn't a good swimmer in any condition, and it was even worse now that he couldn't move his arms. He flung out his legs, hoping he'd get a hold of something. He didn't, but something, or rather someone caught a hold of him. The next he knew he was laying flat on his back in the grass and could breathe again. He instantly suck in as much of the sweet air his lungs could hold.

  "You idiot!" Draco slapped him hard across his face, much like a father would do to a disobedient child. "Are you trying to have us both killed?" He didn't know what he'd expected Harry's reaction to be, but it certainly wasn't the one he got. The raven-haired boy didn't seem to even have noticed he had been hit. "You let go," he said quietly. It wasn't an excuse. Nor was there any anger or accusation to his voice. Why should there be? Harry probably felt no obligation to act polite towards the man who had taken him away from the safety of his muggle relatives, and whining would do him no good, anyway.

  "Of course I let go! You bloody fool, what were you thinking? Do you _want_ to die?" It occurred to Draco the instant the words were out of his mouth, that they had been a mistake. He shouldn't have said anything. 

  "And if I do, you'll drown me?" Harry grinned humorlessly at his own suggestion. 

  "No." Draco's stomach growled again. He really was hungry. Instead of wasting more breath on the insufferable brat on the grass, he began to think very carefully of whether it would be safe to bring Harry into the kitchens. The only real danger was that blasted house elf. But it was very late, or very early depending on how you saw it, and she would be busy cleaning the hallways around these hours if she was doing her job properly. She shouldn't be in the kitchens, he reasoned, because if she is then she's somewhere she shouldn't be, and if that's the case then she's in trouble anyway. His final conclusion was that it would be safe. He could give Harry something to eat, too, while they were there.

  His train of thoughts were interrupted by the very insufferable brat Draco had decided not to waste any more of his precious air on. "You know, I'd be jolly grateful if you would remove this blindfold, please."

  "No."

  "But where is he then?" Arthur Weasley sighed in frustration and drew his hand distractedly through the sparse hairs on his head. "Listen, Arthur, we are all concerned, but many good wizards have been put on the case. I'm sure we'll have him back in a few days, safe and sound as ever before." The young wizard tried to look reassuring, but the bags under his eyes betrayed him. He didn't believe what he was saying. It had only been a few days, but already people were losing hope of ever seeing young Harry Potter alive again. It was frightening. Had it been any other young wizard it would have been different, Arthur knew. Nevertheless, he had promised his wife and children to do whatever he could to help search for Harry. And, of course, tell them all about it afterwards.

  Since his field of expertise didn't really touch any part of the incident itself, apart from the minimal damage that had been done to the furniture and miscellaneous other nearby items, he was not a part of the case. His only relation would be that he had to the missing boy, and while that was enough to ensure him constant updates on the current situation, it wasn't sufficient to ensure him anything more. It would have to do, at least for now.

  It was late, or early, if you chose to look at it from that perspective. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley had insisted the investigation took place at night, so as not to alert the neighbors. Witches and wizards who had just apparated from Privet Drive were filing into the office, they looked as though they hadn't slept for days and their faces were masks of perfect hopelessness. 

  "Oh, hi there, Arthur." A dark haired man, going by the name of Louie Limesborough, was coming towards him with a cup of steaming hot cocoa in his hand. He didn't look nearly as tired as the others, and Arthur guessed he had only just arrived. "Good morning, Louie. It's been a while. How are you?" "Fine, thank you. And yourself?" Arthur shrugged. "These are difficult times, you know. And with Harry Potter disappearing just now… Well, they aren't getting any easier." He wasn't trying to sound depressing, but that was how things were. No use pretending everything was in great order when they weren't. 

  Louie nodded knowingly as he took a small sip of his cup. Louie worked with charms, and specialized in protecting charms and those kinds of charms that made you believe you were seeing something that wasn't really there. The same sort they used to cover up Hogwarts with. "You know, that Harry Potter incident is a mystery to me," he said. "The wards that have been put around the house are all intact, not so much as a flaw on any of them. The neighbors all claim they didn't see or hear a thing out of the ordinary, but what else is new. And what surprises me the most is that they found all the boy's school things, including his wand, locked in a chest in his bedroom upstairs. How is that even possible? He preformed magic that much is clear from the reports, but his wand was upstairs the entire time. How did he do it?"

  Arthur smiled. "Harry is full of surprises."

  "He must be. But I suppose I won't find out until we find him." He took another sip of his cocoa. "How is this investigation progressing then?" asked Arthur, hoping he'd get a more satisfying answer from Louie than that other rookie. "Well, like I told you, it's a mystery to me," said Louie with a shrug. "But I'm only working on the charms part, so I don't know anything about the rest except from what the others see fit to tell me." "And what _do_ you know?" Louie scratched the back of his neck, eyes turned upwards as though the answers were written on the ceiling. "He went north after leaving the house, so our guesses are that someone was waiting for him there. He brought nothing with him as far as we've been able to tell. Apart from his owl, everything's still in the house. There are no traces of anyone suspicious near the house either." He was silent for a moment. "See, the problem is that we are unable to find any actual motif for the disappearance. He might've decided to run away on his own, but seeing as how we arrived so fast he couldn't have gotten very far on foot. We would've found him. We know for sure that he didn't take the Knight bus, and we've also checked with the muggle bus companies to see if he was among the passengers on any of those."

  "What about abduction or kidnapping?" Arthur wasn't sure if he really wanted to know, but he had to ask. He had to know. "Well, we believe we can rule out kidnapping. A kidnapping is usually followed by a ransom demand, and we haven't received so much a note. Abduction is a more likely option." Louie moistened his lips and looked to the floor for a moment before looking up to meet Arthur's eyes. "But, see, strange thing is, how would this… abductor know when to strike? It was only a coincidence that Harry Potter left the house at that time that night. As far as we know, he never planned it, which means that there was no way for anyone else to know. Unless, of course, this mysterious someone is clairvoyant, or know someone who is."

  "But couldn't they have spied on him?" "Well, it is possible, of course. But, like I said before, there have been put up wards around the house to prevent such things from happening, and in any case, if so was then the neighbors would've noticed something for sure. It seems they live and breathe for spying on each other." 

  A young witch in dark robes interrupted them. Arthur couldn't help but marvel at how many young people the ministry was employing these days. He hardly knew a soul here anymore. It seemed Louie knew her though, for he shook her hand and introduced her to Arthur as Aggie Schmith. Aggie Schmith was also a part of the investigation, but before Arthur could ask her what it was that she did, she began to speak of an important meeting they would be missing if they stayed much longer, and soon after Arthur found himself staring at their retreating backs.

  At least he'd finally received some valuable information. It was typical of Louie to appear as if he didn't know anything, when in fact what he knew was of high value to anyone who had the faintest clue of what they were looking for. Of course, Arthur knew better than to draw conclusions at such an early stage when the element of surprise was still big enough to get in the way of nearly any theory, but several theories could at least now be eliminated, which was a relief. 

  "Er… Wait, here we have something, do you like wine?" Draco balanced on a rather frail-looking chair and was searching through the many shelves where all the food was kept. The biggest problem wasn't to find something to eat, there were plenty to eat, but the fact that Draco couldn't prepare the easiest meal kept getting in the way. Cooking was a skill he'd never expected he'd need. Preparing food was something servants did, and Draco Malfoy was nobody's servant.

  The kitchen was dark, quiet and blissfully empty when they arrived. So he had placed Harry Potter, that insufferable brat, on top of a bench with too many drawers, and went to search for food. And so far Harry hadn't made a single complaint, though he still sat exactly where he'd put him, and Draco's quest was a failure. He barely knew the name of half of these things! How was he supposed to know if they were even eatable?

  "What sort of wine is it?" called Harry's voice from the main room. "I can't tell. It's too dark in here," he called back. He seriously doubted Harry would know the difference anyway. After a few more minutes he finally came up with some fruit and a French loaf of white bread, and brought everything out to Harry in a small basket he'd found underneath the shelf with the fruit.

  Harry was a curious sight sitting there; hands tied together, blindfolded, and, of course, dripping wet. And yet there was a small grin on his pretty face. Draco couldn't help but wonder what went on inside that head of his. How could he grin at the mere prospect of getting some food at a time like this? He would never understand Harry. He honestly didn't think anyone ever would. With Harry, you could never be certain. There was no category fit for him to belong under, and so he could at times be rather confusing. He kept asking himself whether the boy was brave, for instance, or really that optimistic to people. Or was he just plain stupid and naïve? 

  Draco pushed his distracting thoughts aside, and fumbled through a few drawers before finally producing a knife fit for cutting bread and fruit with. He tore off a chunk of loaf and used the knife to cut himself a suitable piece of a crimson apple. Then he devoured everything at once, and it occurred to him of a sudden that he should've taken the time to find goblets for the wine. It was too late to bother now so he merely downed some of it straight from the bottle. Then he spluttered it out again. Red wine. Of course it had to be red. He hated red wine.

  Harry chuckled at the noises. He had a pretty good image of what was going on even if he couldn't see it. "What was that?" Draco glared at him as he wiped the remains of the dark red liquid from his face with the back of his sleeve. "Nothing," he coughed. He tore off another chunk and ate it, slowly this time. 

  In the mean time, Harry was staring at him in silence. Or at least he had his head turned in a position that suggested he might have stared if he hadn't been blindfolded. He didn't say anything, nor did he move, and Draco soon found he'd stopped eating and was staring back. Finally he sighed. "Yes, Harry, what is it? Why are you staring at me?" Harry grinned. "How can you tell I'm staring at you?" Draco rolled his eyes. "All right then, why is your full attention directed at me?" Harry licked his lips in a manner that would've been suggestive had it come from someone else. "I'm hungry."

  "But you didn't want my food, remember? You said so yourself." Harry stuck out his tongue in a childlike manner. "No, I didn't say that. What I said was that I wasn't hungry. I'm hungry now. And besides," he added, "You said I was ugly. I was hurt, so that's why I didn't want to eat the food you tried to give me then." Draco laughed at the last part. He couldn't help it. "And now I'm forgiven? Because I've got food?" To his surprise Harry shook his head and looked almost offended at the idea. "I chose to forgive you because you saved me," he said, and then suddenly he laughed, too. "And I'm not that pretty anyway."

  Draco felt this little performance deserved some sort of reward and decided to give the boy what he was asking for. Without further comments he began slicing the apple into little pieces. He held one between his thumb and index finger and lifted it so that it was right in front of Harry's slightly parted lips. "Open your mouth." Harry obeyed. Draco put the little piece carefully inside and withdrew his fingers just in time to avoid being injured by a row of pearly white teeth. Harry chewed on it a couple of times, slowly like he wanted it to last, then swallowed. "Thank you," he said. "Now I feel really full."

  "Quit whining." "Give me some more and I will." 

  Draco shoved a fistful of the soft white loaf into his mouth and carefully ignored the other boy as he chewed on it. I'll give him some more in a little while, he thought. But he has to earn it. It's only fair after everything he's put me through. 

  Harry was silent for about two minutes, but when Draco began to chew very noisily on a peach he couldn't contain himself any longer. "You know, you also said you weren't going to kill me. And then you proved it by saving me. Twice. But unless my dead body is in fact what you have in mind then I suggest you give me something more to eat." Draco took a sip of wine. He had decided not to bother with the goblets at all. "You know, I'd be a little more polite if I were you," he said calmly as he held up the peach he'd been chewing on, allowing for Harry to have a taste of it as well. "It might actually get you somewhere." Harry snorted. "You're the one to talk!" he said accusingly as soon as he'd finished it. "You kidnapped me. You're not seriously expecting me to be polite to you after that, are you? I don't know what you want from me, but I seriously doubt it's my friendship. You even said I was ugly!" 

  "That ugly-part really got to you, didn't it?" muttered Draco. "No, like I said I don't care. My point is that you haven't been polite to me, so why should I be polite to you?" Harry had begun to swing his legs back and forth, producing squishy sounds from his soaked jeans when they stroke against each other. "And if I had told you were the most beautiful boy I ever saw," said Draco slowly, watching the dripping water form small pools on the floor under his feet, "Do you think that would have made you feel better about your situation?" 

  Harry yawned and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. And I don't care that you think I'm ugly. Now can we please move on to the part where you feed me?" Draco gave him some of the loaf and watched him as he ate. If _he_ had been kidnapped, he thought, and the kidnapper had said to him that he was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen then he certainly would've been frightened. More frightened than if he'd been told he was ugly. If nothing else, it certainly would've planted a firm suspicion in his mind as to what the kidnapper wanted from him. He came to think of Pansy's letter. "_Now they're talking about rape and murder and God knows what not!_" And on the subject of letters… Hedwig was still in the cage in his room upstairs, and so was the letter he'd wanted to show Harry.

  "I have something I want to show you," he said suddenly. "Does that mean you'll take this bloody thing off?" Harry interrupted him with a hopeful voice. "Yes, but it's not here so we'll have to eat while we walk, and you absolutely cannot make the slightest sound. Understand?" Harry nodded to show that he'd understood. Draco grabbed him by the collar of his wide, black T-shirt and pulled him down from the bench. He was getting too tired to be able to lift anything much beside the food basket, and in any case he didn't feel much like being close to someone this wet, so with one hand tangled in the mass of black hair and the other pressed against the small of his back, Draco steered a dripping Harry out of the kitchen. 

  Harry was given the great honor of carrying the wine bottle in his back bound hands, and so far he had not complained about it. He also seemed happy to finally be allowed to walk for himself. He also kept unusually quiet. Something for which Draco was glad. If there ever was a time in his life he didn't want anyone at all to see him, it was now!


End file.
